Last One Standing
by Autumn FireHeart
Summary: An AU story of what happened during the time Sparx was destroyed. Join the primitive age of Winx as the mission befalls on Bloom's Father to avert Sparx's destruction when he makes the ultimate choice: fly or fall.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

Fires. Blood. Smoke. The cold, heartless moonlight shone down upon the the battlefield as silent as a graveyard, seemingly to revel at the bloody war-torn day. Blood of the innocent painted the sky a gruesome red, for that day many lives were taken on account of the war. Carcasses piled up to tiny mountains, as a chill wind soon pick up and blew, weeping for the dead. Sparx's national flag stood forlornly on top of the summit, dull and broken as its soldiers. They knew they were fighting a losing war as Darkar's army was tremendous; Sparx had lost in numbers, but not in will as the soldiers did fought to the very end.

Blistered feet dug into the sand, as among the devastated field a movement stirred. The lone figure got up to his feet, hands scarred and face ashen, as he surveyed the area for any sign of life, huffing when there was none. His attire signals him as not one of the Sparxian soldiers, yet he was clearly of their side. Tired yet determined, he waddled through the sea of corpse, through the fires and broken carts; he faltered mightily when he discerned the faces of many of his kin. Agony written over as they stared death in the face. Just then he noticed: Sparx had not only lost a battle to Darkar and the Ancient Witches, but also a battle of their own.

The soldiers, however tough and fearless they might seem, was never trained to fought a battle such as this. It was not humans in which they fought, not horsemen, not knights, but dark creatures. Swift and vicious, these parasites tend to rip the flesh or bones out of their victims. Their bodies soft and light, able to tear the head off a living man before he could even blink. But the Sparxian Army had discovered an advantage: their bones were soft, so soft a blade could run through its skull without much difficulty; but what proved them hard to slay was getting that opportunity. Although the formal seemed like useful information.

So hard had the Sparxian soldiers tried to last for at least a single night, yet they were ruthlessly denied of it. Though they had died with glory yet it was one without a name. He felt the sensation to scream into the cold, empty night but refrained from doing so in fear of it might send the enemy's head turning back.

When it became clear he was the only survivor, the man sucked up his grief and began walking slowly to what seemed like a distant city filled with lights. At each step he took, more blood poured from the wound on his belly which he had priorly failed to to noticed. He grunted in pain as he placed a hand over to lessen the pain. He knew his date with destiny was drawing near, and he knew he must deliver an aural message before it came.

* * *

Sparx was a beautiful realm, much it had been for the past millenniums. For it held the greatest power in all the Magical Dimension: The Dragon Fire. This, while being able to provide power and importance to the Realm of Sparx, also tend to cause danger; for many lust for that kind of power. Nonetheless, Sparx was a city of fun, socialism, and also, beauty. In fact, there was no denying the beauty of the golden city had attracted many visitors from all over the Magical Dimension: Linphea, Zenith, Melody, Tides and Eraklyon. Even inhabitants of the two realms most known for fashion and style -Solaria and Vallisto- could not refrain from visiting Sparx for at least once in their lives.

Sparx could be easily proclaim as a city anyone would die to to live in; but King Oritel thought otherwise. Being King was not all about power and fame, it also comes with great responsibility and leadership; and sometimes the Sparxian King pitied the people who envied him, for they hardly know what they are wishing for. As far as he was concerned, the barriers and guards on the borders of Sparx which he purposely placed abundant of attention into played little to much contribution of Sparx's safety and reputation. So far they had kept the monstrous, hungry dark creatures at bay; but there was no knowing whether that would last as the Ancient Witches' powers enhanced.

There were days when the King could honestly declared Sparx a realm of safety, secured, and of utmost peace. But days like those were not these days, as he knew in the depths of Shadowhaunt Darkar and the Ancient Witches were already plotting an attack to take over Sparx. There was little he could do. In fact, there was nothing (at the present) that the King could do, except fending off the mini attacks launched on him by the Enemy which he found out had occurred rather frequently.

Silently, he sometimes wondered if he had been wrong to declare the death of the Ancient Witches during the First War, when he is but a young captain who fought alongside his father. When it is the time of a war that was bound to live as history, the time where they called it the Reign of the Ancient Witches. When all the Realms of the Magical Dimension united into one for the only purpose of destroying the Witches which had caused too much pain and sorrow. In that War he, King Oritel of Sparx, son of Orithal, had lost his father; and now he feared for his daughters: Daphne, his eldest and Bloom, whom is yet to be born.

A heavy pang of guilt surged through him as he remembered the times he convinced the Council (formed by Kings of distant Realms) that the Magical Dimension had never been safer when he evidently knew it was a lie. The Kings, which he knew were never fools, believed him for a while, but silently doubted him when it became too obvious. Some, such as the older High Kings, Oritel feared their minds sharp enough to remembered the events of the First War, and might be able to flip the table of composure if they ever bring out the topic of the Ancient Witches. To his relief, so far it never came, and Oritel for once felt his worry was unnecessary, although it seemed too much to hope for. Not many can remember that far, anyways.

The High King of Sparx was sitting on his throne, dozing off. He found himself doing that quite often, but there really was nothing to do when your city is all in good shape. Except for the trouble of dark monsters of Darkar. When a messy blended audio of different voices arguing emitted from behind the royal doors, where his throne was directly facing to. Bemused, the King raised an eyebrow and straightens himself, but not curious enough to get up and look.

Soon the doors burst open as a hooded figure step into the white marble tiles of the Sparx Palace; his feet caked with mud, his limbs dirty and scarred, his dark hair long and covered most of his ashen face, his breathe was heavy, he seemed to shivered with cold and leaving a trail of blood where ever he walked. The King flinched a little at the familiarity met with every step as the stranger limped towards him.

"Take him away. That rat is frightening the King." The guard beside Oritel ordered but Oritel held up a silencing hand. "Wait."

"But-" protested the guard but was paid no attention to.

The stranger completely ignored the conversation that was about to take place and instead focused entirely on reaching to the throne of the King. At last, he could walk no more, for the wound on his chest had exacerbated and destroyed part of his lungs. He coughed twice and collapsed to the floor, hair flipping out of the way to reveal his full face. At that moment, Oritel was struck when he realized the stranger was one of his closest friends. "Arweor." The King breathe.

There was a loud _clinck! _as metal spear hit the floor. The guard earlier whom stood beside the King ran to the besides of his son. "_No."_ a small sound emitted from his throat, but tears would not fall.

"M-my Lor-rd." Arweor managed to say as he cough out a mouthful of blood. His bloody hand gripped that of his father's as he lay dying in his arms. "Evil is here."

* * *

_Arweor - honour-worthy._

**Author's Note: Hey there! So finally another story cracked in my head and I have decided to write it. No future promises of what might happen though, events have yet to be fully decided, and I'd love if some of you can debate it with me.**

**So if it isn't explicit enough, this story mainly is about the War during Sparx is destroyed, though might be drastically AU. I will not make characters unless necessary (hate OCs, haha ;P) Lastly, I'd like to say Arweor is an old english which definition I have put up there, in case if you're curious to know :).**

**By the way, if any of you know the names of Kings and Queens from different realms do tell me in reviews or PMs (It's been a while since I watched Winx, beg your pardon). I will be very grateful ;-)**

**Review if you can please! It's been some time since I'm on FanFiction.**

**Sincerely,**  
**Autumn**


	2. Chapter 1

Funeral bells were all but joyful, though Oritel couldn't quite recall the last time he heard them ringing. Arweor's wedding was as silent as it's owner had been, not that he didn't have many friends, but as it was the way he would preferred. Like any other man, whose dreams was to die under a blaze of glory, Arweor did not live up to that dream; though it would be pretty much his last wish had he given the chance.

Nevertheless, he still died an honourable death.

"I never thought the voices of nightingales Arweor loved so much as a child would fill as his last memory." Beorht said as soon as every guest of the funeral had departed. He ran a hand over the glassy surface of his son's coffin, pausing when it reached his face. His eyes were peaceful, hair neatly combed and tended, every last sign of pain faltered from his look. "May death bring him to a more peaceful place, away from the sufferings and illness that lies in this world."

Oritel stood by his best friend's side, as Beorht (Arweor's father) knelt by his son's coffin. The wind suddenly picked up and blew through his long braids, seeming to pity the old guard for his loss of an only child. "Arweor was a good man. He fought for Sparx in times of need and do not flee when trouble arises. You should be proud, Beorhtor, for Arweor was not given a chance to see victory but he did fight as a soldier to the very end."

Beorht's eyes instantly turned watery, as a man of his dignity collapsed uncharacteristically into a crying mess. "I understand. But no parent should need to bury their child."

Oritel's eyebrows slacked in his friend's grief. "Be at peace, my friend." He sighed.

* * *

_"Faltered already? But the game has yet to be started!" the sheer icy voice penetrated into Oritel's head as the King found himself wandering aimlessly in a sea of endless expanse of black. The King did not know how it had come to this, for a second before be was preparing for bed, yet a second later he woke up in a dark, unwelcoming place._

_"Who's there? Show yourself!" He shouted into the curtain of blackness, but the voice did not retort. Instead shrilled laughter echoed back and sent the King literally falling backwards in his nightgown. He immediately got onto his feet and grunted._

_"Short-term memory loss, hmm? Let us refresh your memory..." Without waiting for a reply, something golden flew forward and head the King on his chest. He held it up and came to discern a golden locket, one that he found familiar somewhere deep in his memory, perhaps from a time when he was far too little to remember when it was given to him._

_"Familiar, isn't it? Orithal was never a man of war, you know, regardless the facts he actually lives in one!"_

_Oritel's eyes watered like never before, for a man of himself would never cry, least not in front of the Ancestral Witches. "You will pay for this, Belladona! Fear you I do not, for I am no longer the timid child you once knew…" His knuckles turned white, with the golden locket in his hands. "I am now the King of Sparx!"_

Oritel's eyes flew open, chest heaving as he frantically gulped for air. A soft moan emmited from beside him, as he felt thin fingers rolling up his shoulder. "What's the matter, my dear?" Miriam's voice filled his ears, evidently sleepy and trying to keep awake.

"It's nothing…" The King mumbled, "Just a nightmare."

The Queen nodded and flipped the covers, returning to her earlier slumber. Oritel slid down into the sheets as he cursed the Witches. As he turned in his bed, his hands hit something hard, eyelids flew open when saphire eyes met shinning gold. _The locket._

Quickly, before Miriam could see, he flung the thing into a nearby drawer and turned into for the night.

* * *

"Tell me, did our King enjoyed the meeting?" A dark voice emitted from the darkness, crackling into laughter as it found Belladona, Tharma, and Lyssiss.

"Can you ever expect more of us, My Lord?" Lyssiss purred an eerie voice. "We are the Sisters, after all..."

Another crackle of laughter came from the darkness. "I'm afraid I cannot resist to promote you at times, Witch of Darkness. Did he like the gift?"

"Well, we didn't exactly hear his appreciation, but we can safely assume he does..." Belladona spoke, earning a deep chuckle in response. "Orithal died with that locket in his hands, how can Oritel not forget it?" She laughs, her eyes darted towards the darkness. "Indeed this will provoke his anger, and make the game more fun. What says you, Darkar?"

"If all plans were to work according to schedule, Sparx will fall within a month. And that is when we will experience the taste of revenge!" Darkar boomed, "Oritel was a fool if he thinks he could be rid of us that easily. I lost my ally once, under the hand of Orithal; and now his son shall pay the price of losing his daughter."

"Princess Daphne," The witches licked their lips, tasting imaginary blood in their tongues. "Revenge seems all too easy..."

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter, I have tight exams for the next two years, updates are unlikely.**

**I would also like to thank that Anonymous reader for provides most of the names, that was really a big help.**


	3. Story Discontinued

I deeply apologize for the news I have to bring forth to you, I'm afraid I have reasons untold to discontinue this story, and deeply I am very very sorry. However though, I have a another version of a similar plot that I've planned to use on this one written out and entitled "**The Last King of Sparx**"

Of course it is a shorter version compared to this one, but the plot is somewhat similar. Check it out if you are interested!

Autumn ~


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